Beauty and the Beast
by InkCoveredQuill
Summary: An AU based off of the fairy-tale. Mature Content.
1. The Storm

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a wife. You may recognize the line from one of the most iconic of love stories, Pride and Prejudice. The opening line was the precipice to many a young woman falling for the dashing but woefully prideful, Mr. Darcy. It began the fairy-tale hopes that would fail with a man who couldn't live up to the standard. This is no similar story. No happy endings exist in my world. That snide remark that shows that even the rich, those who have everything, can still be in want…need of something.

The soft tinkling of clapper to bell rang as I tugged the worn rope. Chime jingled here as I knew it sounded two stories below in the kitchen, despite the crack of thunder which shook the house at the same moment. Constant ticking became the sole sound in the room. The second hand of the clock got a revolution and a half, one page turned, the door creaked open. A cringe from the butler was felt without looking up. I knew words were unnecessary. That come time for my retirement for the evening, the old man would be up here, lubricating the hinges.

"You rang, Sire?" The grayed head bowed low, inquiring when a command wasn't given immediately.

The man waited in silence a moment as I finished the page, tucking the crinkled marker between the crisp pages and lifted my gaze, "I'm going to need a new girl." My tone clipped, simple. A command.

"If I may say, my lord…" the man started but cut off with the silencing wave of my hand. The ruby of the heavy signet on my right hand catching the light as a wave of lightning cast a glow through the dimly lit room.

I stood up, striding across the room to peer from the window to the grounds below. My eyes scanned the area, able to survey every little detail despite the dark and cover of pouring rain, adjusted to the darkness. The storm had come from nowhere.

The patterning of heavy drops splattering against the pane did little to dim my response, "Just get me another girl." The words barked. I was in no mood to debate with the old man. He knew as well as I how the rumors kept them away. Girls curious enough, brave enough to come never stayed long. No one stayed long.

I felt, rather than saw, Johnson's quick nod as he spoke solemnly, "Yes, Sire." I said nothing as the door closed, not without the telling shriek of the hinges.

Years ago I was happy, a time long gone. My parents were in fishing. The corporate side. It started as a few boats, a couple of small crews, and grew into a vast empire. We lived like royalty. Lavish parties, the mansion constantly filled with music and laughter. They were these The Great Gatsby type parties; the invitation extended to everyone and everyone made sure they were there. Many a business deal created at those parties. Mother would caution Father to relax and have fun, leaving the business for tomorrow but he couldn't quite do it. Within the first hour or so he'd have some poor shmuck lead up to his office where he talked the man into buying, selling or trading whatever it was that my father wanted. He was good, he was excellent.

The last time visitors came was at their funeral. After that, no music, no laughter. Any child of fourteen, I imagine, would have a hard time taking that. Another flash of lightning creates a reflection in the glass. The stark, white scar that ran the length of my face on the right-hand side. A final reminder I have of that night. It was a storm, much like this one. Visibility was gathering of water that my father failed to see. I can recall my mother calling my father's name in pure terror. Woke up two days later in the hospital. I've come to hate the rain.

The house shut up, rooms closed off. "No Trespassing" signs posted all over the grounds. The sole person allowed in was my tutor. I never neglected my studies. Though the company all but ran itself, I knew that it was mine. It was my parent's legacy.

Solitude like that does things to a person. I believe I lost my own mind to the darkness. Years passed, as time does. As I grew older, I grew cynical. Slowly, the staff dwindled. Either by death or need of life. The life of the place died along with my parents.

I ran a hand through my hair. Dust-colored strands parting in waves with the intrusion of the digits. A long, low sigh spilled from my lips as I turned from the window and moved to pick up my novel again. The soft glow of the lamp casting light over my favorite chair. I was settling into the seat when the shrill creak sounded the return of my butler. My lips parted to speak. Not entirely sure what my intent was, no doubt it would not be a welcoming phrase. Any words were, however, cut off with a swift, "We have a situation, Sire."

I watched in complete confoundment as the elderly servant rushed off, leaving the door wide open. He had looked positively frazzled. Unusual for the man. I set the book aside again, rising to my feet to follow after him.

"She's shaking something awful, my lord," Johnson spoke as I rounded the head of the stairs and began my descent to the main floor.

My eyes fell upon the drenched mass of a human being. Johnston left her on the ornate, decorative sofa, in the foyer. It's proximity to the door was its appeal. My hand grasped the hand-carved head of the banister while reaching the ground floor, "What is this?" My words short, gauging of the situation.

"I apologize, Sire…I was unable to move her further. She collapsed in the yard." I noticed that he was breathless. No doubt the feat would be a difficult one for him. Johnson had been with the family for over 50 years. Beyond my living of course. As cruel as I can be to the man, I don't know if I would have made it without him.

I could feel my jaw tensing up, locking in place. The sofa was not of any consequence. However, I was not a good samaritan and I didn't like unexpected circumstances that forced my hand. However, am I one to send another human being to their death either. "Get some towels and something dry for her to put on and put them in the guest room."

The man hesitated a moment, looking much like a deer caught in oncoming headlights. I lifted one brow, waiting for compliance with my request. Johnson had a bit of a stutter to his words, "Wh-ich room, m-my lord?"

I presented an annoyed roll of my eyes, "I suppose at this point in time they are all vacant are they not?" My words lacked impatience. It was rather late, I had hoped to finish the chapter I was on and retire peacefully to bed.

He knew as well as I that the guest rooms remained unoccupied for quite some time. After a moment of gawking, he nodded and rushed off to do my bidding.

My gaze dropped to the woman, haphazardly draped on the couch, her skin paled, hair plastered to her face. It was difficult to get a good look at her from this angle. The girl couldn't have been beyond early twenties at least. So young and yet away from town. Wonder what had brought her up this way and in such a storm crossed my mind. With a resigned sigh, I leaned down. Sliding one arm beneath the bend of her knees, the other cradling her back. I lifted her up, ignoring the dampening fabric of my shirt as it plastered to my chest. Even soaking wet she didn't weigh much at all. I'd wonder if she ate enough. Perhaps a good night's rest and a large breakfast in the morning will be all she needs and the woman can be on her way first thing.

With that decided, I made my way up the steps, taking each with calculation. She may be near skin and bones, but even then a full-grown person is a bit of a load to carry. The soft, muted sound of droplets hit the floor as with each move upward jostled her form, ringing a bit of the gathered water from her clothing.

Once I made it to the landing of the second floor, I spotted the light on down the hall, the chosen room, wide open as a beacon. I stepped inside, lowering her to the bed. A small grunt sounded from my charge as she sunk into the surface.

The small lamp on the bedside table was a muted illumination to the room. Despite its years of disuse, it was dust free. The room was immaculate. A big, four-poster bed, seemed to swallow the small body lain upon it. Dark oak casting shadows across the room, over her face.

"You should get out of those wet clothes and dry yourself," the suggestion went as far as my lips. Her head turned to one side, a heavy sigh spilling from full lips. It appeared she had settled into bed and would budge for some time. I wouldn't mind enjoying that feeling myself.

I waited a moment, then I cleared my throat and tried again, "You will become ill." She didn't respond. Not even a sigh this time. A low growl sounded deep within my throat as my annoyance mounted with the entire situation. After a brief deliberation, I decided to change her myself.

Upon the removal of her clothing, nothing seemed to rouse her. I had thought perhaps the jerking of wet clothes from her skin would be enough to pull her from whatever stupor she succumbed to, however, once completely bare; still no sign of consciousness.

The wondering of my gaze was perhaps a bit excessive however, the woman did pass out cold on my doorstep. The view of her naked form further settled in my mind that she was malnourished. Her breasts were high and tight but as small and sickly looking as the rest of her. As my eyes traveled over her abdomen, I could literally count her ribs. I would be instructing Johnson to fix a larger breakfast than the usual.

I lifted the towel that Johnson laid out and began to brush it along her skin. Drying any excess from the removal of her clothes. Satisfied, I lifted the large shirt, I recognized it as an old one of mine, set aside to for throwing out given the stain on it. It was dry and it was clean so I doubted it would be of little consequence to the wearer. Tugging the cloth over her head. As the ragdoll of a woman slept, the fabric fell high on her thighs, covering her frail form. The long sleeved v-neck hung on her frame, pooling at her sides. I tugged the duvet over her, ensuring that she had warmth to ward away any chills.

I had turned to leave but as an afterthought stopped and leaned down, putting my ear over her nose and mouth. Poised there, waiting. A small release of breath tickled my ear, the warmth coating my skin. I remained a moment more until the second rush of air hit my face. The breath seemed normal to me. Satisfied that I would not have a corpse in my home come day break, I closed the door and headed to find Johnson.


	2. On The Wings Of The Morning

With the expulsion of rain, the morning sun drives its way through the cracks in the curtains, finding places it can insert itself, scaring away the darkness within. I preferred the dark. The demons hide in darkness where the light reveals them. There's silence in the night. A peaceful salve where the morning brings nature's song. That tune failed to bring joy to a hardened heart, presenting only the longing for nightfall.

"Ah, good morning, Madam!" Johnson's cheery voice echoed through the foyer; the open area had great acoustics, carrying the sound to the breakfast table where I wait. I shook out the paper in my grasp, took a lingering sip of the lukewarm coffee and grimaced. Our visitor lived through the night and the empty chair across from mine was impending occupancy. The rest of the conversation became muffled, Johnson leading the woman my way. A clearing of my throat was all the acknowledgement I gave while the dutiful butler weighted on her.

After a moment of silence, the clattering of dishes ceased and the man bowed out, leaving myself and the woman alone. I lifted the small mug, sipping the warmed contents before lowering it back to the small, glass plate with a clatter. With a glance over the newspaper, I found the girl staring at me. When our eyes met, she didn't flinch or turn away, she seemed curious. Her brow furrowed, she was trying to read me, understand something. Eventually, I was the one that broke the contact.

Returning my attention to the paper, I allowed the staring to continue for a while longer before commenting, "You'd better eat. You look like you could use it." I nodded in the direction of her filled plate without looking up. I didn't have to. A moment of silence followed, then the scrapping of fork to the ceramic surface was my answer

Johnson allowed himself to return a time or two, doting on the girl, even asking multiple times if she was positive she was full. Eventually, she allowed him to fix a cup of tea and once she assured him she was good, he left the room. The quiet then resumed. Since my most recent girl left, I hadn't shared a meal with anyone. That was part of the reason I kept a girl. I didn't enjoy conversation or a relationship per say, I wanted the silent companionship of sitting across from another being, sating a mutual need.

Naturally, that moment of peace exploded into tiny bits when she cleared her throat. It wasn't the act itself that did it but what followed after. "Thank you. For the room, the food...the shirt…"

My gaze flicked above an article about the weather patterns, noting, as I had not before, that she was still wearing my shirt. I gave a brief, accepting nod in response to her gratitude and took another sip of tea.

"You going to keep me here or am I to leave once my clothes dry?" The words spoken without waver, more curiosity than fear. Most feared me, this was different.

"You are free to go whenever you wish. Dry clothes or otherwise." My stare lingered on the open collar, the shirt fit loosely, "You can keep the shirt." I pointedly shook the paper, straightening it, returning to my reading.

"You're not going to make me repay you for saving my life?" Another question, the tone of her voice unchanged.

I didn't look up, this time, attempting to continue studying the article however, I hadn't understood a thing I had read since she walked in. My attention commanded elsewhere, I gave up; folding the paper and setting it aside, I finished off my tea. "Why would you voice such a question?" I was in a way amused but also annoyed. I knew the rumors about me that circulated, I knew why they feared me. This woman was clearly not afraid but she seemed to believe the rumors, she was even mocking me for it.

"You owe me nothing." I said firmly. "Once you are ready, let Johnson know. He will drive you back to town."

"I don't live in town," The words quipped as she took a long moment, drinking her tea.

"Then he will take you wherever you wish to go." My fuse has always been very short, I have never had much patience.

The ploy to goad me into asking where she did live thwarted, she shrugged, "Alright. I will let him know when I am ready to leave."

Unused to that type of treatment, I eventually excused myself and left the woman to her tea. Headed upstairs with intent of shutting myself in the library the remainder of the morning. With any luck, the girl would have gathered her things and left by the time I emerged for lunch.

Intentions aside, I received about two hours, if that, of peace. Afterward a soft knock came from the other side of the door, one I knew quite well. I cleared my throat before calling, "Come in."

The door handle turned, door opening with the softest of clicks yet that blasted door felt the need to announce its opening. Recalling his forgetfulness, Johnson flushed, "My apologies, Sir. I will care for that presently." He gave a deep bow of his head.

I raised a hand, rotating my wrist in an urging for him to continue. I could only assume he was here to inform me that he would be taking the girl away or to let me know that he completed the task and returned. However, neither of the explanations come.

"The ah, house guest," He looked embarrassed as he hadn't gotten her name, "Would like something to read and requested that I show her to the library. As this is your domain, Sire…"

The mere wave of two fingers was enough to silence the man, "Show her in, but do explain that the library is off limits."

The old man quickly nodded, seemed relieved in fact, I wondered how hard the woman had grilled the poor man.

Settling one leg over the other, I shifted in my chair, raising the book back to my view. It took a moment to find my place and once I did, I resumed my reading. There was only a short walk from the room I had given the guest use of, and within moments Johnson waved her inside, having left the room open, the obnoxious door wasn't an interruption. I glanced up in time to spot the butler giving us both a swift, low bow and disappear down the hall.

My gaze followed the woman. Somewhere she had acquired pants. I tried to recall what she had been wearing the night before. Since I did not recognize the trousers and she clearly fit in them, they must have been her own. Her clothes were dry, yet she still lingered. Elbow perched on the chair's arm, I cradled my face with my fingertips. Watching as her bare feet slapped against the hardwood floor, standing on her tiptoes, grasping a book just out of her grasp otherwise.

The woman did not seem to pay any attention to me yet one hundred percent of my attention was on her and each movement she made. A string connected my eyes to her form, they followed her every move. It became very apparent that she was fully aware of my gaze and even, reveling in it; a scowl crossed my features before forcing my attention back to the book in my grasp. Naturally the moment I did so, I felt her eyes on me. Sounds of her movements halted,apparently my looking at her seemed necessary for movement. I sniffed, more in irritation than actual need of the act, turning the page though I am not at all sure what I had just read. Perhaps I did not even read at all. Staring at the pages but not seeing the written words before me. The female had completely rendered me illiterate.

Unwilling to continue in this manner, I marked the page, set the book aside and rose from my chair. I didn't bother to glance her direction, didn't need to give her the satisfaction of knowing she rattled me.

"Sire!" Johnson exclaimed as I stepped from the library into the hall. The man looked on the verge of a panic attack, "Was there something you required? I can fix your lunch early or bring your tea up…" I said nothing, merely lifting a hand, effectively halting the butler in his garbled tracks.

As I walked around the man, I swear I heard a whimper. That brought the barest hint of a curl to my lips. One amusement I did have in my life was the man's eagerness to serve and the way he fidgets when he feels he has erred and I paused long enough to pat him on the shoulder in a soothing manner before continuing on my way. I did hold a great deal of affection for the old man. He was always a very eager one but he has taken great care of me.

I let myself into the office, long fingers caressing the heavy oak desk, feeling its strength as I round it, lowering myself into the chair. My father had decorated the room to his tastes. Which made it a very elegant but leather heavy room. The top portion of the desk was a leather surface, surrounded by a wooden frame; the rest of the furniture, a couch, two wingbacks, the office chair, all leather. Everything else was oak. A large, 5 shelf bookcase stood as tall as I did and was the width of the wall behind it. Unlike the library shelves, these held legers. It held entirety of my father's empire, my empire. This room had always solved my problems for me before, I wondered if it would be kind enough to assist me in the dilemma I am currently facing.

Problem number one: I am in need of a new girl

Problem number two: I have a houseguest who happens to be a girl and does not seem to be in a hurry to leave.

Possible solution: Have the determined houseguest become said girl.

Possible complication: Will said houseguest be more of a headache than she's worth?

I continued to make the list within my mind, mentally going over each question, every concern. I had always worked out problems like that. Ticking off each issue mentally until I came to a decision I could live with. The woman was already infuriating just in her mannerisms, the way she made herself at home was irksome enough and she wasn't anything like the docile creatures I inclined to deal with previously.

Knowing my own temperament as I did, I doubted it would last very long. I would blow up or the girl would refuse to comply and run. Either ending did not seem profitable, yet as Johnson had no doubt attempted to point out, I was running out of options. The more girls I went through, the less others wanted to take the position. All the perks were not worth what I put them through or at least what they believed I was putting them through. That was the problem. What I actually did wasn't the problem, it was what they think I did.

My decision eventually made. I had a good idea where Johnson had headed to after the meeting in the hall, pressing the intercom button on the landline phone that sat in the corner of the desk, I waited to hear the telling beep, "Bring the girl to my office." I didn't wait for a response before severing the connection. Releasing a breath, I could only hope I am not making a mistake.


End file.
